Wrong Choice
by Dragonheart77
Summary: The demigods fought hard, but when it came down to one choice... he made the wrong one. What if Percy didn't give Luke the knife? Months after the war, the world under the Titans is an unforgiving place. Western Civilization is all but gone. And our heroes are in unexpected places... Annabeth, perhaps, most of all. AU from the end of TLO. Characters from HOO.
1. 1: Prologue

**First real PJO fic I've written, as opposed to my multiple Frozen fics which probably won't be posted here, so... yep. AU, as noted in the description. There will be many surprises and many heart-crushing scenes to come (not literally, of course; this isn't an OUAT fic ;3).**

 **Shorter chapter than most due to it being the prologue. Word count: 1,974**

* * *

 _He pushed hard, but she pushed back, not letting him disengage, even as he slowly, slowly forced his blade down toward her neck._

 _"_ _Your mother," she grunted, breath coming short. "She saw your fate."_

 _"_ _Service to Kronos!" he roared, golden eyes glinting. "This is my fate!"_

 _"_ _No," she insisted, shoulder burning like Greek fire, eyes stinging with tears, but not from the pain. "That's not the end, Luke. The prophecy: she saw what you would do. It applies to you!"_

 _"_ _I will crush you, child!" Kronos' voice bellowed, but she knew better._

 _"_ _You won't," she said, gasping for breath as his blade crept toward her neck, ever closer. She could feel the Celestial bronze and mortal steel fighting each other, burning toward her, hungry for blood. "You promised. You're holding Kronos back even now."_

 _"_ _LIES!" He pushed again, and this time her feet slipped. She lost her balance, and his free hand swung toward her, connecting with her face with a solid_ smack, _searing pain lancing through her skull. She slid backward, unable to stand._

 _He loomed over her, golden eyes glowing, sword raised._

 _And she still couldn't make herself believe he would do it._

 _"_ _Family, Luke," she croaked, blood trickling from her lip. "You promised."_

 _Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Percy and Grover struggling to stand, to move, but she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He stood motionless for a split second, emotions warring across his face, and then his face crumpled and he staggered, staring at the knife in her hand, the blood on her face. "_ Promise... _"_

 _Then he gasped, and her heart stopped as she saw the change, saw her oldest friend take control of his own body again. "Annabeth..." And yes – it was his voice, not the Titan's._

 _He stumbled toward her as though unacquainted with his own body. "You're bleeding..."_

 _"_ _My knife," she said, and tried to raise it, but pain screamed through her arm and she heard the metal clatter to the floor. She glanced at her hand for a moment before looking away, stomach turning from the angle the limb was bent at. "Percy, please..."_

 _There was a clash of metal. He stepped toward her, but then Percy was there, between them, blocking his way to her. "Don't touch her," the son of the sea god's voice growled, dangerous, feral, dark._

 _She wanted to tell him to stop, but couldn't find the strength to voice another word. "Jackson..." Kronos' voice snarled, and tears stung her throat again as he gasped. "He's changing. Help. He's... he's almost ready. He won't need my body anymore. Please -"_

 _"_ _NO!" shouted Kronos, cutting his host off, and Annabeth must have blacked out for a moment, because the next thing she knew, Percy was slumped against the base of her mother's throne beside her._

 _"_ _The knife, Percy..." she rasped, finding her voice again, fighting for breath. "Hero... cursed blade..." It all made so much sense, suddenly, but she could not find the words to explain. He had to figure it out himself._

 _Kronos' voice bellowed, and a few seconds later, her vision blinked back into existence, seeing him crumpled, clutching ruined, smoking, burned hands. "Please, Percy..."_

 _Percy moved toward him, and the next few moments burned a thousand times clearer and brighter in her memory. "You can't... can't do it yourself," he gasped. "He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can... can keep him controlled."_

 _Percy looked back toward her, at Grover taking her into his arms, trying to protect her, to shield her from the chaos that was about to erupt._

 _"_ _Please," he groaned. "No time."_

Please, Percy, _she thought desperately._ Understand. Figure it out, Seaweed Brain. Please.

 _He started to give the knife to the Titan's host._

 _Hesitated._

 _And the world exploded, screams shattering in her ears, the throne room of Olympus dissolving into golden light, a ripping laugh, the agonized screams of those she loved most tearing through her. Golden light, the sense of an impact, too shocked for pain, and darkness._

 _Luke..._

She jolted upright, silencing the scream that had escaped her lips as quickly as she could manage. The dreams were not getting better... she suspected they might never get better. The day she had lost everything she cared about, everything she loved. Percy was gone, dead, killed in the blast. Luke had been dissolved when Kronos took full form. Athena had been imprisoned by the Titans, weakened almost to a mortal level by the destruction of her throne on Olympus. Not to mention the destruction of Western Civilization at large.

She touched the leaves of the plant beside her, an edelweiss, and felt tears sting her throat, even as she scrubbed the tear tracks from her nightmares off her cheeks with her other hand. "Oh, Grover," she whispered to the tough mountain plant, all that was left of her protector and friend. "I wish you could still talk to me. Then again... maybe it's better this way." _Better that you don't have to see what's become of this world. What I've become to survive it._

She rolled out of bed, pushing the blankets away, and stood, moving to her closet and changing into a fitted black T-shirt and black slacks. She would have preferred jeans, but she didn't get that choice. Grabbing up her hairbrush from the shelf beside the closet, she brushed her blonde hair back, smoothing it into waves, as she paced to the mirror, looking at her own reflection. It was amazing how little she had changed on the outside, when so much had changed on the inside. Her hair was still its bright blonde, with a single streak of gray – gray that tortured her every day, reminded her of _him_ , of Percy. Her reflection stared back at her with the same gray eyes, reminding her she was all that was left of her mother. All that was different were the bruises under her eyes and the mark on the inside of her forearm – she twisted her left arm away from the mirror by habit, a futile attempt to forget, to ignore, to escape the scars burned there forever.

Annabeth stared into the mirror, the only mirror in the entire palace made of regular glass, not obsidian, and ran the brush through her hair again, another three times, despite the fact that it was already smooth, before pulling it back into a tight ponytail, well out of her face, and pulling the bangs that slipped free back behind her ears. In motions her conscious mind didn't have to pay attention to anymore, she drew eyeliner across her eyelids in two swift, flawless motions, all drilled into her muscles by habit. Ritual. Everything was a ritual; rituals were the only way that she could keep her sanity. Eyeliner, faintly darker eyeshadow, foundation to cover up the dark circles under her eyes, the mascara no one ever noticed. Of course, she probably wouldn't notice either, if there were blood running into her eyes. None of it was her wish, none of it was something she had chosen. All at _their_ will and whim. Always. She shook off the thought, pulling on a formal crimson jacket as she slipped out the door, shutting it firmly behind her. She took a breath and walked briskly down the hall, ignoring the monsters she passed as if they were not there, as if she were wearing her invisibility cap again – not that her cap worked anymore. She heard a soft growl from one side as she passed and turned her head a few degrees, just enough to lock eyes with the telkhine. Within moments, it shied away from her cold, flat gray stare, hurrying on its way, and she continued on hers.

She stepped into the throne room, flats clicking on the obsidian floor as she made her way to her place at the left side of the largest throne. She flinched at the bellow of _his_ voice. "What do you MEAN, you still haven't gotten into Hades' realm?" he roared, voice booming through the room. For a moment, Annabeth regretted building such good acoustics into the hall, half deafened by his outrage.

She almost felt bad for the harpy messenger. The bird woman cringed, cowering away from her master's rage. "I-I apologize, Lord," she stammered.

"You have failed me," he thundered, golden eyes glowing.

"Please! Mercy!" the harpy begged, but it was too late – there was a flash of metal, and the harpy exploded with a shriek, raining dust on the floor. He snapped his fingers, and immediately a cowering young dracaena slithered out to clean up the pile of sulfurous yellow dust.

Annabeth caught herself making a faint expression of distaste. She hurriedly slid it under a mask of indifference, but not before a deep chuckle rang through the hall. "Don't like what you see, Chase?"

She didn't look at him. Didn't have to, to picture the chaotic image that was his face, constantly changing, but always having the same eyes. Golden eyes, glowing eyes. "If I may say so," she said carefully, voice neutral and flat, "if you keep killing your messengers, you'll eventually run out of them."

She heard him shift in his throne, leaning down toward her. "You'll watch your tongue in my presence," he warned, words hissing between his teeth.

Annabeth flinched away at the sensation of his breath brushing her face, a tiny, almost imperceptible motion, but one she could not prevent, and one she knew he noticed. "You chose me for my mind," she pointed out. "If I cannot speak it, it is of no use to you."

He chuckled at her flinch, and she knew he could sense the fear that coursed through her at his nearness, how badly she wanted to move away, how much effort it took to steel herself and remain still. "Watch yourself, Chase," he purred, trailing one finger delicately down her jaw, the tiny contact worse than if he had slapped her. He was teasing her, the slightest touch making her skin burn from his presence, her body wanting nothing more than to recoil from him. "You're too smart for your own good some days. Surely you haven't forgotten your _place?_ "

She fixed her stare on a point on the far wall, refusing to buckle under the psychological tools he was using against her. _Your place._ Words that had always come with pain, since the fall of Olympus. "No," she whispered, then cleared her throat and said out loud, "Of course not, Lord Kronos."

She could feel the cruel smile he gave her as his finger left her jaw; it made her skin tingle and the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "Good girl," he murmured. "That's my good little serving girl."

* * *

 **Should I be worried about the Author Hunters coming for me?**

 **Probably. Hehe... _someone protect me_**

 **Fortunately or unfortunately... it only gets worse from here. (Or better, depending on how you look at it.) There will be a lot more detail and a lot more explanation on how this all happened in later chapters, I promise on the River Styx! Reviews please!**


	2. 2: Survivors

**Look, another one. That was awfully fast.**

 **Bolle Accidentali: Ha ha! That much is resolved this chapter, at least. Note the time difference carefully, though...**

 **pjsandwich: Thank'ee very much. I was hoping that I'd poked at the motives behind Annabeth's choice enough to not make the reader explode with "Annabeth would never do that what are you thinking" type thoughts. I also hope I did a decent job of holding off exactly who she was serving until the end... it's hard when the original summary mentioned the fact that she was with the Titans, only that summary didn't fit on . Anywho.**

 **Word Count: 2,375 (well, I did promise a longer chapter; this'll be closer to average length)**

* * *

Deep in the sewer systems of New York City, a fight was brewing.

"Take it back, before I run my spear through you," a boy with a buzz cut growled, circling his opponent.

The girl scoffed, tossing a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder as she turned to keep him in front of her. "You couldn't scratch me if you tried, _graecus_ dog."

"Why, you little -"

"Knock it off," a new voice commanded, and everyone – boy, girl, and the small crowd that had gathered to watch the fight – went silent. People shuffled aside to let the teenage girl through. Her brown hair was in a choppy, shoulder length cut she'd done herself, a braid on one side. She wore no makeup, but she was still seriously beautiful, even when she was ticked off – Native American complexion, kaleidoscope eyes that constantly seemed to change color. She stood with her arms crossed, battered old army jacket somehow making her more impressive, not less. "Marcus, Vic. We've talked about this, haven't we?" she asked sweetly.

"Yes, Piper," they both muttered, exchanging a glance that said they both knew they were in for it.

"Then why do I have to keep reminding you?" She glared, every appearance of sweetness falling away. "We're in the middle of a war. We can't afford to be fighting each other. I know, there was some big rivalry between the Greeks and Romans – I get it. But we're not Greek or Roman anymore. We're barely even American. We're barely even _alive._ So -" she pointed a finger at Vic - "stop bringing up old grudges, and -" her finger swung over to Marcus - "stop provoking fights with other demigods. Okay?"

Grudgingly, the two of them agreed. There was no arguing with Piper. She was beautiful and impulsive and she was generally accepted as a leader even though she was technically equal with the rest of them, but beyond even that, she was a daughter of Aphrodite. She had inherited her beauty from her mother, but she had also gotten a rarer gift from her godly parent: charmspeak, the ability to convince others to do what she told them to with only a few words. Though she rarely used the ability, everyone was always aware of the fact that she _could_ use it if she chose. And if you really ticked her off, her 'siren voice' sometimes kicked into gear without her meaning it to.

She flicked her hand at the gathered demigods, and everyone dispersed, scattering, gone within seconds. The only boy left padded over to her, adjusting the bow over his shoulder. "Nice," he commented. "That could have gotten ugly fast."

She tipped her head to acknowledge him. "Didn't realize you were watching."

He nodded. "I was about to get into that, actually, but it probably wouldn't have gone too well."

Piper studied the Chinese-Canadian boy for a moment. Although he was built big, and was by no means weak, he was still padded in baby fat, rounding the edges that otherwise might have given him an imposing figure. Still, he was smart and he was a good shot, and he had stepped into his new role as the leader of the Underground well, despite his own misgivings. "They respect you, Frank," she reminded him gently. "You just need to learn to respect yourself. They gave you this job, remember?"

"I know," he agreed. "But with everything that's going on up there..." He jerked his thumb at the roof of the tunnel, trailing off. She quieted too.

She hadn't been active during the Titan War, but she had heard stories. How the demigods of both camps, which had at the time been unaware of each other, had fought – the Greeks to defend Manhattan, and the Romans to topple Mount Orthrys. How the palace of the Titans had been destroyed, and Krios killed by the great hero Jason Grace, son of Jupiter. How the fight in Manhattan had boiled down to one choice, the choice of the Great Prophecy, which it was agreed had taken place up on Olympus. No one knew the details of what had happened up there – for the demigods who had been present, the Greek heroes Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, and Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, along with their satyr protector, Grover Underwood, had all been reportedly killed in the blast – but it was evident that the wrong choice had been made. Kronos had risen. Olympus had been destroyed. A new palace had been built in the wreckage of what used to be the Empire State Building. Most demigods had been killed or captured. Only a very few had escaped. The Second Titan Age had begun, and the mortal world had been all but destroyed.

Piper had learned she was a demigod a few days after the fall of Olympus, when a pair of dracaenae tried to kill her. Scared out of her mind, she had screamed out something along the lines of, "No, please don't!" and the monsters, much to her surprise, had stopped. She figured it out in time to escape, fleeing, running for weeks until she stumbled across a trio of demigods searching for survivors. She had been brought to the Underground, and though obviously no one was claimed anymore, it quickly became clear whose daughter she was.

In the following months, she had learned to fight with a dagger, Katoptris, which had once belonged to Helen of Troy, and to control her charmspeak. She had rapidly gained respect from her fellow demigods, Greeks and Romans alike, and now had her job smoothing over the fights that regularly sprang up among them. It was a largely thankless task, but one she was good at. She had helped search for survivors, her charmspeak proving useful in calming mortals and demigods alike and convincing them that she and her friends were not enemies, that they would bring the survivors to safety. The Underground housed mortals as well as demigods, but they were few and far between by their very nature, and they didn't mix well with the half-bloods. It was a tough, stressful, very hard life, but all of them were grateful to be alive at all – even if it might not last much longer. So far, they had managed remain under Kronos' radar, hiding from his spies, but it was getting harder and harder as monsters multiplied, without a sufficient population of demigods to send them back to Tartarus.

"I know," she said softly. "But we're alive. That's what matters right now."

"And we're going to stay that way," he said firmly. "Keep the Underground alive, above all else. There are still demigods unaccounted for. My closest friend from Camp Jupiter... there's no way that the Titans took her alive. She has to be out there somewhere."

Piper rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "We'll find her. If Hazel can be found, we'll find her."

* * *

Hazel Levesque happened, at that moment, to be fighting for her life.

Of course, it was becoming more and more common for that to be the case at any given moment. With monsters multiplying by the day and no heroes left to kill them off, it was getting harder to keep away from them. Still, she managed. Sort of.

"Come on," she muttered, cavalry sword flashing as she sliced at one hellhound's snout when it got too close. "Where are you?"

The second hellhound snarled and lunged at her, but she stabbed her Imperial gold sword up into the underside of its jaw and it exploded into monster dust with a whimper. She swung at the other one and missed, the weight of the blade pulling her a little off balance, long enough for the monster to pounce, jaws snapping at her throat.

There was a sonic boom, and a shrill whinny, and hooves slammed into the hellhound's neck, throwing it away. "Good boy," Hazel gasped, relieved. Arion snorted and bobbed his head, as if to say, _Of course I am._ Hazel grabbed his mane and swung up onto his back, urging him forward, and by the time the hellhound thought to run, she had already stabbed it in the neck, sending it back to Tartarus and going on her way.

Arion snorted, unhappy to be back here, and she rubbed his neck. "I know, boy. But even the Amazons had to go into hiding; they're not here anymore." A few months ago, Hazel had watched an Amazon shipping convoy moving Arion to a safer location, struggling to get the stallion to cooperate. She had seen Arion and immediately known that he was the same horse she had seen in Alaska seventy years ago, though how that was possible, she had no idea. Either way, she knew he had to be hers, and she'd stolen him from the Amazons – obviously with the stallion's help. Since then, he'd saved her life multiple times, providing the fastest means of escape other than the blinking that gods used.

Now, she was looking for weapons, and this place was one of her best chances. The Amazons were long since gone, withdrawn into their strongholds, sending only small convoys of their best warriors out between their bases when necessary, but in their heyday, this had been one of their major shipping routes for weapons and armor.

Hazel slid off of Arion's back and sent out her senses. Gold, lots of it, was scattered throughout these hills, but it was really a question of how much of it was Imperial gold and how much of it was just the average stuff, from bank vaults and whatnot. Closing her eyes, she called for Imperial gold.

The ground rumbled and split open as gold came to the surface. Hazel knelt and started rummaging through the wreckage; most of the weapons were broken and splintered, but she tucked away several arrows that had survived intact, despite the fact that she couldn't shoot worth beans. A tiny glint caught her eye, and she stopped, picking up the small piece of the godly metal with great care. She had never seen it before, but she had heard stories about this magic weapon, and she stared at it in awe. The daughter of Pluto had never expected to find this; she had thought it destroyed in the Second Titan War.

But it was worth keeping. If its owner was still alive, he would want it back. And if anyone was liable to run across him, it was one of the only rogue demigods left.

Hazel tucked the coin into her pocket, jumped up onto Arion's back, and vanished.

* * *

 **Five Months Ago...**

When Percy woke, the first thing he saw was a dolphin snout six inches away from his face.

He yelped, jumping nearly out of his skin. The dolphin backpedaled, chittering apologetically. _Sorry, lord! Sorry, sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to startle you, but you were out for so long..._

Percy put a hand to his forehead, head pounding. "Ow..." His whole body hurt, despite the fact that he wasn't supposed to _get_ hurt anymore. He stared up and slowly came to terms with the fact that he was on the ocean floor, his only company a bottlenose dolphin that should not have by any means been this far from the surface. "Where..?"

 _Oh – right, of course – Atlantic Ocean, way out in the middle of nowhere. East of Manhattan, north of Atlantis, way, way, way west of England,_ the dolphin squeaked, all way, way, way too fast.

Percy wanted to mention that that basically described most of the Atlantic Ocean, but his head hurt a little too much. "What..." His eyes shot wide open as everything returned in a rush. Luke. Annabeth, hurt, fighting Kronos. The explosion. _Annabeth._ "What happened?"

The dolphin swam around to help nudge Percy upright. _Hard to say exactly, but wow, we felt that blast all the way down here. I mean, not here, exactly, but the ocean next to -_

"Got it," Percy muttered. "There was another demigod with me... Annabeth. And a satyr, Grover. Up on Olympus... is she... are they..."

The dolphin was silent for a moment too long. _Lord... no one else could have survived that explosion. You barely made it; you were unconscious for almost three days, and you only survived by the good graces of the Fates, causing you to land in the water, and the Achilles curse, which probably burned away in the blast. If there was anyone else up on Olympus when Kronos rose... I'm afraid they're dead._

Percy couldn't comprehend that for a moment. _Annabeth... Grover..._

"No," he whispered. "They can't be... they..." He doubled over in the water, and the dolphin hesitated, as if unsure what to say or do.

The strangest thing? Percy knew, somehow, that Grover was gone. He no longer had the empathy link with the satyr – Grover had removed it at the dawn of the Second Titan War, insisting that the danger was too great of one of them dying – but he could sense that his friend was gone. But Annabeth...

"No," he said again, stronger. "She's alive. She has to be alive. She would find a way. She has to be alive..."

The dolphin stared at him, then chittered, _If you say so, lord, then it must be so._

Percy looked over at him. "What's your name, anyway? And, um, what are you doing on the ocean floor? Dolphins don't usually come this deep."

He laughed, a rapid squeaking sound, then whistled, _My name is Phil. I'm a son of Delphin – the dolphin god – and a mortal dolphin. I'm a half-blood like you, technically. I can withstand pressure and temperature changes far past the range of a normal dolphin. And I can swim a lot faster. And hold my breath a LOT longer. And most dolphins will accept my leadership. Though Dad says I have ADHD... and that I talk too much. Do I talk too much? I don't think I talk too much, mostly, but every once in a while..._

"A demigod dolphin. That's just weird," Percy muttered, but he shook his head and said out loud, "Well, Phil, we've got a lot of work to do. We've got an army to rebuild."

 _Lord?_

"You heard me. We're taking down the Titans, and I'm saving whatever demigods are still alive up there."

* * *

 **Do not question the name Phil. I have no idea. These things just kind of _happen._**

 **Don't expect me to update every day, by the way; I just happened to have Chapter Two on hand because my muse exploded yesterday and I decided I'd better post it before my readers came to kill me for what I did to Annabeth. Sorry no development on her this chapter, by the way; I have a lot of characters to cover, and I know that chapters that are _too_ too long can get really hard to read (although I do despise too-short chapters as well, m'self).  
**

 **Thank you to everyone who's reviewed or is reading without reviewing! Reviews, please? Don't be shy!**


	3. 3: Past Pains

**So I guess Carella (that's my Muse) likes you guys for some reason. At least, she likes torturing you... you and me both, believe it or not. Moving on.**

 **First off, as my dearest Flame reminded me, I should clear this up: Annabeth is not, to put it bluntly, sexually involved with Kronos in any way, shape, or form. I realized after writing and posting that first chapter that there may have been some very subtle implications I didn't intend to make toward the end there. Apologies for that. No worries about me writing anything of that sort. (Anyway, take a look at the rating, silly Flame.)**

 **Secondly, I forgot to mention when I posted the prologue, and then again when I posted Chapter One, that the theme song of this fic is _Ready Aim Fire_ by Imagine Dragons. Listen to that, and you'll have a pretty good idea of the feel I'm going for here. In fact, there may be some foreshadowing in certain lines...**

 **Is that all? {I think so, generally.} All right then. On to the review replies.**

 **AthenaMonaLisa: Ha ha, thank you! {See? See? My ideas DO pay off sometimes!} Yeah, yeah, shut it, Carella. Technically ALL of these are your ideas. {...I said sometimes.}**

 **Bolle Accidentali: How do you know she's not planning to? {Or is she?} Dun dun dun! *cough* Anywho. And... yep, well, we decided a little more view into that was needed. So, we give you this chapter. Sorry-not-sorry.**

 **mrsad7: Well, good! I'm glad! XD**

 **Flame: I am too lazy to write your full name; you know I'm talking to you. I'm sorry, I'm not the Evil Queen; you may want to visit Maine for that. And I totally AM a heart-crushing maniacal instrument of destruction, thanks. ;3**

 **On to the story. Word Count: 2,259  
**

* * *

 **Roughly Three and a Half Months Ago...**

The cell door opened with a clang, and rough hands grabbed her arms before she could react, pulling her off the tiny cot. She cried out as the Laistrygonian's hot fingers dug into her torn shoulders, but he paid her no mind, dragging her down the hall without allowing her to regain her footing. "Annabeth!" the voice of the demigod held in the cell one down from her called as she was tugged away, but he was ignored as well, and the door to the chamber at the end of the hall slammed shut behind them.

Cold steel closed around Annabeth's wrist; she fought to pull away from the second manacle, but it really was pointless to fight a Laistrygonian muscle to muscle, even had she been at her full strength – which she was not. The giant growled at her, as if he would have liked to have taken a bite out of her, before clomping out through the door. Annabeth was left on her knees, arms stretched out to either side by the shackles chained to posts in the ground, far enough apart to keep her unable to move, with little to do but wait in the uncomfortably warm room for the inevitable.

Even though she knew he was coming, his presence still sent shivers through her entire being – revulsion, fear, even a little awe at the sheer power he contained. "Well, Annabeth," he purred, golden eyes glowing as he moved around her, face constantly changing, always handsome, always devastating, always sending spikes of fear only made worse by the anticipation through her. "I received some _delightful_ news this morning I thought you'd want to hear."

"And what, pray tell, could that be?" she spat, tension and fear wracking her body despite her attempts to appear calm.

He circled behind her so that even though she craned her neck, she could not see more than a shadow of his frame at the corner of her vision. She heard metal scrape against stone, and her pulse sped up. "Why, aren't you cheeky today," he growled, and something sharp bit into her shoulder blade, tearing open previous wounds, dragging down her back with agonizing slowness. Pain tore through her, tugging a wordless cry from her throat, and he snarled, "You've forgotten your _place_ again, girl," tearing the blade from her flesh. Hot blood ran down her ruined back, a sensation no longer unfamiliar to her.

She fought the screams, but the third cut he made tore at her control, and her pain-wracked voice echoed down the hall. Kronos tossed the knife away, the blade clattering against the stone floor, and Annabeth flinched away as his burning touch caressed her face. "Don't you want to hear the news I have?"

"I don't... want anything... from you," she panted, earning herself a blow to the face that set her ears ringing.

"Oh, but I think you do," he snarled. "I think you want very much to hear what I have to say." Another scrape of metal against stone, heavier, this one familiar and recognizable, and very, very fear-inducing. Annabeth trembled, the knowledge of what was coming making it ever so much worse, as Kronos reappeared, circling her like a vulture, iron glowing red in his hand. He came closer, painfully slow, bringing the heated metal close to her face. She pulled away instinctively, but the shackles prevented her from moving much, and soon it was too close for comfort again. "We don't have to go through this, _Annabeth._ You know what I want."

As he spoke, his voice changed, and her eyes flicked against her will from the hot iron to his face, which was still for once, not wanting to see it and at the same time unable to stop herself from looking.

Luke's face.

This was not a new trick either, but it shook her every time somehow. A small sob escaped her before she could stop it. "Stop it," she pleaded. "Luke is dead. Stop."

"But Annabeth," Luke – Kronos – said, adopting a look of hurt, "don't you remember? How the first time I met you, you were just a little girl with a mortal hammer, trying to fight a world bigger than you could have imagined? Don't you remember what we promised each other?"

"Stop it!" she begged. "Stop!"

"Family, Annabeth..."

"STOP!" Annabeth screamed, unable to take it any longer. "Luke is gone! He's dead! DEAD! He's not COMING back! Stop it!"

"Yes," Kronos said, Luke's face falling to pieces in the maelstrom of Kronos' being. "He is dead... because of you."

"Stop," she sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. "It's not... it wasn't my fault..."

"Oh, really?" he challenged, leaning close. "You could have stopped him. You could have talked him out of it. You could have saved him. But you didn't. You let him die. You killed him."

"No," she whispered, but she struggled to fight his words. They were her own fears, after all – her own worst thoughts.

"You can't make it worse," he reasoned. "You're already a murderer... but you could make a difference now. The old gods were weak, and corrupted. In this new age, you could make a difference. Join me, Annabeth," he said, and it was again Luke's voice.

She shook, knowing what the consequences of her words would be, but she said them anyway. "No, _Kronos._ I will never join you."

"So be it, _Annabeth,_ " he snarled, and heat seared against her cheek.

* * *

Down the hall, the boy half-blood shivered as screams tore the air. He huddled in the corner, trying to ignore the sounds of her torment, but in the end unable to. Helpless to help her, he sat and endured, hoping that her screams would not drive him to madness.

* * *

Again the searing iron pressed against her skin, her cheeks, her shoulders. Again the offer was made. Again she refused. Again the iron. A cycle she could not escape, could not fight, the only way to keep from submitting a list of words she ran in her head.

 _Charles Beckendorf. Michael Yew._

Pain, poisoning her mind.

 _Silena Beauregard. Ethan Nakamura._

All thought washing away, every sensation but the pain fading, but she clung desperately to the list of words – the list of names, of people, of friends killed by Kronos and his allies.

 _Lee Fletcher. Castor. Daedalus._

And of the living...

 _Percy. For Percy._

At some point, Annabeth stopped feeling the individual burns. Her entire body ached in sympathy, trying to cope with the pain and failing miserably. Her cheeks and shoulders throbbed, striped with burns. She couldn't stop shaking, and cried out when Kronos grabbed her jaw in one hand, forcing her to look up at him, pain flaring at the harsh, burning touch. "Oh, Annabeth," he sighed, tilting his head and mocking concern. "I nearly forgot to tell you... my forces have finally found Perseus Jackson." He chuckled. "Or, rather, what's left of him. It's not much, but... it's enough."

No.

No, he could not be dead. Not Percy, not after everything. _He had the Achilles curse,_ some small part of her brain that was somehow still functioning almost normally reminded her. "Ly... lying," she gasped, throat raw from screaming.

"Oh, you don't believe me?" He moved to the table behind her and showed her a thin bronze object. A pen. _A ballpoint pen._ He pulled off the cap with a flourish, and the familiar blade expanded, the name clear as day. _Anaklusmos._ Riptide. The sword that would never leave Percy's side, unless...

"Your precious _hero_ is dead," Kronos said.

Annabeth's world collapsed, imploding, the weight falling completely onto her, crushing the air from her lungs as if the sky had fallen on her again. "No," she cried, voice breaking. "P-percy..."

"Don't you see?" he purred. "There's no point. No one is left to come save you. You might as well save yourself... all you have to do is say it."

She shivered, curling inward as much as she could, bound as she was. She couldn't... couldn't give in... not after all _he_ had done...

 _They're dead,_ some voice whispered in her head. _There's nothing I can do for them. But there's no reason I should die too. There would be no Elysium for me; the Underworld is shut down completely. My soul would wander the earth for eternity. But alive... alive, I can maybe do something to stop it. Maybe, some day in the future, I'll be able to bring down the Titans. I can't do that if I'm dead._

Could she really do this?

"Come on, _Annabeth,_ " he hissed, and she trembled at the sound of her own name. "Just say it... a few little words, that's all."

Percy was dead. Her last hope had been that the son of the Big Three would still be able to stop the Titans. Now that hope was gone. Her eyes moved to Riptide, and her decision was sealed.

"All right," she whispered hoarsely, barely audible.

Kronos snapped his fingers, and the shackles fell away from her wrists, leaving her unsupported, to collapse to the floor in a heap. The Titan snatched her left wrist and pulled it away from her, turning her arm so that the underside faced toward the ceiling. She screamed in agony as fire burned into her flesh. _Don't understand... agreed... no more..._

But this pain faded after only a second, leaving a throbbing ache in her forearm, but no more of the fire-pain. Annabeth spared a glance at her forearm, but looked away quickly, unable to stand the sight of her own steaming, smoking skin. She caught no more than a glimpse of the marks burned into her. The word _branded_ occurred to her, and she realized that this had been maybe her worst decision in a very long time.

It no longer mattered. It was done, and there was no turning back. She was past the point of no return. Now all she could do was try to keep herself and as many others as she could alive.

* * *

"Take her upstairs," Kronos ordered the Laistrygonian. "She's agreed to our... terms." He narrowed his eyes at her wounds. Such disfigurements would have to be dealt with later.

When the door closed behind the nearly unconscious girl, dragged away by the giant, the Titan examined the sword in his hand and snorted scornfully, tossing it onto the table carelessly. "It really is quite amazing, what a meager glamour can do."

* * *

 **Present Day**

 _These dreams were really starting to annoy Rachel._

 _She literally fell into it this time, just popped out of the air about three feet above the ground and dropped right onto the pavement. "Ouch," she complained mildly, climbing to her feet. But it hadn't really hurt much. Dreams never did, even these ones._

 _She was standing in the middle of a city, or whatever was left of it, anyway. She knew immediately, despite the destruction, that it was not New York. Skyscrapers were toppled around her like a giant child's building blocks, scattered on the ground when their mother called them away to dinner. The streets were cracked. Cars were burning. And people were fighting in the streets – people with purple T-shirts and golden armor on, with swords and spears and big rectangular shields. Demigods, but not from Camp Half-Blood. A girl a bit older than Rachel, who seemed to be their leader, was shouting something, but Rachel sensed she wouldn't have understood it even if she had been able to hear. As the redhead watched calmly, a spear flew from the enemy army, aimed to impale the girl, but she somehow caught it on her sword and turned it away, to bury itself in the ground at her horse's side. Not a horse – a pegasus, spreading wings the color of peanut butter._

 _However, it was quickly apparent that the demigods were going to be overrun. More and more monsters kept coming, and mortal Rachel, in all her Sighted glory, could see every hideous, nasty bit of the carnage. The girl leader was torn off her horse's back. The pegasus screamed in rage, but collapsed out of sight, hit by a stray arrow. Demigods fell left, right, and center._

 _One girl, however, managed to escape to the outer edge of the fighting somehow. She put her fingers to her lips and whistled, a sound that carried all the way to Rachel even over the chaos of the war. By the time she had defeated the next monster to challenge her, a cloud of dust and smoke rose, and a horse appeared out of it – immortal, magical, Rachel could see it even though no one else would have known it on sight. The girl jumped up onto her horse's back, and with a guilty look back at the few demigods still alive, she fled, vanishing in seconds._

Rachel awoke with a start. She rubbed her temples, then looked up at the sky after making a quick check around her to make sure she was alone. "Her again. You want me to find her, don't you? She's... she's important somehow," she whispered, half to herself. The mortal girl, blessed and cursed with Sight, got to her feet, shouldering the backpack that contained what few belongings she still possessed.

She knew nothing but this: the girl she had seen in her dreams was important. She would be a key player in the downfall of the Titans.

Rachel set off again, hoping not to encounter any particularly nasty monsters.

* * *

 **Yes, well, no one ever said I was a _nice_ person.**

 **The reason no scars (other than, of course, the ones on her forearm... which shall be explained later, I promise... muahahaha) have been mentioned thus far in the story shall be explained in a later chapter. I have no idea how much later. I write this as I go.**

 **I'm not convinced with the turning, myself. I'll probably go back and rewrite the whole second half of that scene at some point, to be perfectly honest. Your thoughts?**

 **Oh - anyone catch the Phantom reference? Besides you, Flame. I totally didn't start singing while I was writing...**

 **Aside from that: the boy demigod shall also be detailed later. Feel free to share theories.**

 **See you all next time.**


	4. 4: Captured

**First off, I apologize for taking so long to update. I have no excuse other than I got distracted by other stories, some on this site, some original works. But my muse did pick up a bit for this, at least, so that's something.**

 **pjsandwich: Nico is still alive, promise. He will show up next chapter, which is later than I planned, if I'm honest, but c'est la vie. Jason shows up this chapter. No worries XD**

 **Enchiladas: Yay! Wicked forever! x3**

 **AthenaMonaLisa: Hehe... sorry. *hides***

 **Bolle Accidentali: Good, that's exactly the reaction I was looking for XD Now keep in mind... that and worse had been going on for roughly a month and a half, probably a little more, before that flashback. Chew on that for a while.**

 **Flame: Called it. XD Well done. You know me too well.**

 **Edit: This was supposed to be posted last night, but Dragon was a dummy and forgot XD Whoops...**

 **Word count: 2,265**

* * *

Percy was having a bad day. And more than just your standard end-of-the-world, fighting-a-hopeless-battle, Titans-have-taken-over type bad day. More like a, _Hey, your worst enemies are all coming back to kill you!_ kind of day. Which he supposed _was_ standard, for him.

He spun, eyes focused very stubbornly on his own blade, angling the sword in an attempt to catch sight of his adversaries in its reflection. "They'll stay down a lifetime at least, she said," he muttered. "They don't reform that fast, she said. Gah!" Something knocked into the backs of his knees and swept his feet out from under him. The son of the sea god landed hard on his back, the air crushed out of his lungs. He gasped, winded, trying to force oxygen to reenter his lungs; a shadow fell over him and he remembered almost too late to slam his eyes shut as a thousand hisses echoed in his ears. Percy groped for Riptide and slashed upward blindly. A shriek of pain pierced the air, and he heard her stumble away. He scrambled to his feet, holding his shield up – he wished that the engraved images didn't mangle the reflection so much he couldn't see the gorgons in it.

"Persssseussss Jacksssson," she hissed.

"Look, ladies, we can talk about this -" He instinctively blocked a strike from something - "really, we can figure this out!"

"Never," a different voice snarled. Percy swung, opening his eyes again at the raspier voice of the second gorgon. She wailed as Riptide scratched her shoulder – not a wound deep enough to vaporize her, but Percy could hear the would sizzling, the essence of the Celestial bronze eating away at her being. The lime green snakes that made up her hair hissed and writhed in pain.

"Euryale!" the first voice cried, and Percy closed his eyes again as he turned to meet her lunge. Bronze talons screeched against his shield, and he slashed blindly. There was a puff of wind and a scream as she exploded into dust, accompanied by the dull thud of her head hitting the ground. He whirled to face the second gorgon, eyes snapping open again, and realized something suddenly, a curse slipping off his tongue.

 _Where's the third one?_

"G'night!" Stheno chirped from behind him, and something hit Percy hard on the back of the head. He fell, knees buckling, as the world around him went fuzzy. The last thing he could remember hearing was Stheno asking if Euryale was _sure_ they couldn't kill him.

Before he could hear Euryale's reply, the world went dark and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Jason woke to the sound of voices and rattling chains. He sat up on the cot, turning his face toward the little light that made it down to him. "Throw him in her old cell," a deep voice – Laistrygonian, or maybe Cyclops – rumbled.

A nervous giggle reached Jason. "There's irony for you, eh, Brutus?" She stopped talking abruptly as Brutus growled warningly and the three came into view – two dracaenae and a Cyclops. He recognized the younger dracaena; her name was something unpronounceable, but she told Jason to call her Jenny. She was notoriously talkative and Jason's main way of finding out what was going on in the upstairs world. Between the dracaenae was a fourth figure, a human figure. The Cyclops, Brutus, opened the door to the cell across from Jason's, and the dracaenae dragged the human into it and dropped him there, hastily retreating when he stirred. Jason remained still until the monsters were gone, then scooted closer to the bars and peered into the dimly lit hallway in an attempt to discern some sort of identity.

The boy raised his head, but Jason couldn't see much more than an outline. He didn't appear to realize there was anyone else there; he sat up slowly and looked around, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nice rooms," he muttered.

"Tell me about it," Jason agreed, making his new neighbor jump. He leaned against the bars. "Sorry. Welcome to the dungeon of the Titans."

"Who are you?" the boy asked, inching closer to the bars on his side in an effort to see.

"Name's Jason Grace, son of Jupiter."

"Jupiter..." He sounded as if he were frowning, confused. "Zeus?"

"You're a Greek," Jason noted.

"As opposed to?"

"Roman. Specifically, this one used to be praetor of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata," he added, jerking his thumb at his own chest. "Before the legion was overrun, anyway."

The boy shook his head. "Because one set of gods wasn't enough."

Jason smiled half-heartedly. "So who are you?"

Sea green eyes glinted at him as the light from the torches on the wall shifted and flickered. "Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon."

Jason leaned back slightly, eyes wide. "Heard the name. The man upstairs has been going half crazy trying to find you for the last six months or so."

"Who?"

"The Titan Lord."

"Kro-"

"Don't," Jason interrupted quickly, before he could finish. "Don't say his name. That'll only get his attention, and trust me, you _don't_ want that. But yeah, that guy. How did you stay out of here for so long?"

"Well, being able to breathe underwater helps," Percy said mildly. "Having a friendly neighborhood demigod dolphin helps too."

"A – what?"

He might have smiled, but it was hard to see. "Never mind. Long story."

"So how did he finally catch you?" Jason asked quietly after a moment.

Percy was silent for a time. Finally, he explained, "I fell into a stupid trap. I was... I was looking for an old friend. I got word she might have been seen by one of the naiads, but..." He shrugged. "I didn't find her." He rubbed his temples. "I know it's not very likely she's still alive, but she's come through for me a dozen times when the odds were pretty good I was dead or dying. She's saved my life before. I... I don't know what I'll do if I never find her."

"What's her name?" Jason asked. "I might have gotten word of her – some of the monsters that get assigned to dungeon duty are pretty talkative. They like bragging."

"Annabeth," Percy said. "Her name is Annabeth."

Jason stopped, stunned into silence. "Annabeth," he stammered. "As in, Annabeth _Chase?_ " _It can't be._

"Yeah," Percy said, surprised and suddenly anxious. "Why? Do you know her? Where is she?"

" _Annabeth Chase_ is your girlfriend?"

"Yes – wait, no, she's not my girlfriend, but – where is she? What happened to her? Is she here?" The panic in his voice was growing, but Jason was still stunned, trying to process how he was supposed to tell Percy that his best friend, whom he obviously was in love with, was serving Kronos now.

"She's here, all right," Jason murmured, "but you're not going to like it."

"Why? What happened to her?" Percy shouted, grabbing the bars as if he'd like to grab Jason by the shoulders and shake him against the wall. "Annabeth!"

"Shut up!" Jason hissed. "Someone is going to hear you, and then we're _both_ done for!"

"I don't care," Percy snarled. " _Annabeth!_ "

Whatever either one of them was going to say next was cut off by a familiar voice echoing faintly down the hall. "What in... what is going on down there?"

"Annabeth," Percy gasped. "I'm here! It's me, Percy! Where are you?"

" _Percy?_ " Her voice shook. Someone hissed, a dracaena guard, probably, and she snapped, "Let me through, curse it all!" A series of hisses and snarls ensued, and the light brightened as pounding feet carried a torch down the hall, bringing a shadow with it that fell across Jason and made him flinch.

Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, practically threw the torch she was holding into an empty sconce on the wall, peering into the cell that had once held her. Percy's face, clear for the first time to Jason, showed immense relief, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off his shoulders. Annabeth, for her part, seemed as unscathed as ever, blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, but she flung herself toward Percy without regard for her crimson business suit, kissing him where the bars were far enough apart for their lips to meet with a desperation that seemed to surprise Percy and even Annabeth herself. When they broke apart, she gasped, "Percy, I thought – they told me you were dead, that they found your body, that -" She dashed away the tears threatening to spill over.

"Annabeth, you're alive," he breathed, squeezing his arms through the bars to hold her at arm's length, each of them holding the other's shoulders as if they might never let go again. For the first time, he seemed to notice her appearance – how well-dressed she was, the lack of marks on her skin. "How... what..." He gestured helplessly to her impeccable business suit, and the silence while she formulated her answer was deafening.

Jason, watching all this grimly, spoke again quietly. "Percy, look at her arm."

"What..." His eyes flew down to the exposed inside of her forearm; she grimaced and tried to turn it away, but he wouldn't let her, staring at the black marks burned there in confused horror.

Crossed scythes each emblazoned with an omega, with a word beneath.

Κρωνωσ. _Kronos,_ in Ancient Greek.

"Annabeth, what..."

"Percy, I..."

Jason sighed. "She gave in to him, Percy. He would have killed her otherwise." Percy's eyes flicked to him, desperately hoping, praying that Jason wasn't saying what Percy thought he was saying. Unfortunately, Jason didn't intend to lie to him, even if the truth hurt him more than the lies ever could.

"She serves Kronos now."

* * *

"She serves Kronos now," Jason said, and the bitterness in his voice made her flinch.

Percy's eyes flew back to hers. "No. No, that can't be right." Annabeth opened her mouth to speak, but her throat had closed up and she couldn't make a sound. "Annabeth?" he asked, pleading, and she couldn't hold his gaze any longer, dropping her eyes away.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and his hands fell from her arms, pulling away. She looked up again. "Percy, please – there was no other way; he would have killed me! I didn't have a choice!"

"How could you, Annabeth?" he shouted, suddenly angry, and she stumbled back a step, shrinking away from the thunder in his voice, half expecting a blow to come with it even though she knew that Percy would never hurt her. "How could you join him, after everything he's done?"

"I didn't have a choice," she repeated hoarsely, tears burning in her eyes. "What would you have done?"

She knew the answer before he said it. "I would have died!" he screamed. "I would have died before joining forces with _him!_ "

"Percy, please," she begged. "Someone is going to hear you!"

"I don't care! It doesn't matter, does it? They're going to kill me anyway. And what are you going to do about it?" he snarled. She backed up another step, and her back hit the bars of Jason's cell. "Are you just going to stand there and watch while they kill me?"

"I -"

"What is going on down here?" boomed a voice that made Annabeth flinch and cower away, unable to stop herself in the state she was already in. Fiery eyes glowed at Annabeth and Percy. "Well, Chase, looks like you found our little secret already. Lord Kronos will be rather... _displeased_ with you, don't you think?"

Annabeth winced, but forced herself to stand up as straight as she could, refusing to acknowledge the fact that her face was still stained with tears. Before she could react, Percy growled, "Hyperion, right? Didn't Grover turn you into a tree?"

Hyperion narrowed his eyes. "My brethren freed me from _that_ prison with little difficulty once the spirit of the Wild was sufficiently... subdued." He grinned savagely, teeth like molten silver. "Fire is good for that, no?"

"Where's Kronos?" Percy asked, eyes flashing. Annabeth shot him a panicked glance. "Still having you do his dirty work? Tell him to come down here and face me himself."

"Percy, don't," Annabeth whispered, and the look of utter hatred on his face when he looked at her was more painful than a thousand lashes – and if anyone knew what that felt like, it was Annabeth.

"Silence, Chase," Hyperion snapped, and she flinched. "Perseus Jackson, Lord Kronos will be visiting you soon enough. As for you, _Annabeth_ , I think Lord Kronos will want to speak with you as well, don't you?"

He snapped his fingers, a gesture he used purely because he knew she hated it, and she reluctantly drew nearer to him. "As you wish... Lord Hyperion." Every word ground out, every word she hated herself more for, but she spoke them anyway. He heard the thinly concealed self-loathing in her voice and smirked slightly, knowing as well as she did that she had little choice but to obey.

"Lord Hyperion," Percy said, disbelief evident in his voice. She couldn't bring herself to look at him. "There was a day you sometimes didn't even call the _gods_ Lord and Lady."

"Times have changed," Hyperion said smoothly. "Chase has learned that to survive, even the most powerful demigods must learn to bow to their rightful overlords. Isn't that right, _Annabeth_?"

She hated it when he used her first name, and he knew that, too. She clenched her jaw, and his eyes narrowed, waiting for a response. Finally, she nodded stiffly.

 _I'm sorry, Percy._

* * *

 **I say again: No one ever said I was a nice person.**

 **That said... *hides before the pitchforks come out* I'M SORRY PERCABETH SHIPPERS IT HAD TO BE DONE I LOVE THEM TOO I PROMISE {The same way you love your castmates, whom you keep stabbing with the feels dagger?} Yes. Exactly like that.**

 **Reviews, please! (Don't kill me XD) Thank you for reading, and I'll see y'all next time!**


	5. 5: The Fight for Life

**So here's three more characters cleared up. Kind of. Sorry again for slow updates.**

 **Fenix Fireblaze: Glad you're hooked XD I've loved your reviews on my other stories, so.**

 **Bolle Accidentali: Hardcore Percabeth shipper, much? XD In all seriousness, though, it's precisely _because_ he doesn't know what she's been through that he's being so unfair.**

 **AthenaMonaLisa: YOU'LL NEVER CATCH ME ALIVE! Hahahaha!**

 **Word Count: 2,510**

* * *

"Lord Kronos," Hyperion called as they approached the throne.

"Hyperion," Kronos greeted him with a chilling smile. "What brings you to my throne room, brother?" His eyes settled on Annabeth, and he raised an eyebrow. She refused to meet his gaze.

"I'm afraid your favorite servant is a little too nosy for her own good," Hyperion purred, but his eyes glowed dangerously. "She found our guest in her old cell."

"Is that so?" Annabeth fixed her stare on the arm of his chair, tracing the details she herself had overseen carved into it, so she wouldn't have to look either Titan in the face. "And whatever were you doing down there?"

She swallowed. "I was walking past the entrance to the dungeon and heard him shouting my name."

"Him?"

She looked up suddenly, angry. "Yes, _him_. Percy. Percy Jackson. Whom you told me was dead." She clenched her hands into fists. "You lied to me."

Kronos leaned back in his throne. "What else is new?"

"You tricked me," she hissed. "You told me he was dead. You tricked me into taking _this._ " She thrust her arm out, showing the brand clearly. The constant reminder of the biggest mistake of her life.

"You took up my service of your own free will."

"That depends on your definition of free will, doesn't it?" she snapped, nerves far past frayed.

She knew it was a mistake immediately. He rose to his feet, towering over her. Even Hyperion tensed beside her. "You forget your place," Kronos warned, his voice deathly quiet. "You are nothing, girl. You are alive only because I choose to keep you that way. You would do well to remember that. Perhaps you need a reminder."

Annabeth winced back. "No," she whispered. "No, please."

"Be silent," he said, and she was. "Hyperion, hold court until I return." Before anyone could react to that statement, Kronos snapped his fingers, and the world around Annabeth dissolved.

When she snapped back into reality, nauseous from the sensation, both of them were standing in her room, alone, Kronos back to a human size, though still taller than her. "You worthless, miserable girl," he snarled, striding toward her, and she backed away instinctively until she hit the dresser, setting everything on it shaking and knocking several things off. "How dare you challenge my authority?" He grabbed her wrist in a crushing grip, and she cried out in pain. "How dare you, you sniveling brat? Have you forgotten what this means?" He yanked her arm up in front of her so that she could see the mark, upside down as it was from her perspective, burned into her forearm. He brushed his hand roughly over the brand, and it glowed with golden light, burning as if it had been freshly set into her skin. She gasped, the air leaving her lungs with the fresh wave of pain that she knew with a chilling certainty was only the beginning.

"Do you know what this mark means?" he repeated, face inches from hers, making her skin burn at the power of his presence. "It means you can't fight me. It means you can't disobey me. _I own you,_ Annabeth Chase, and I'll own you until the day your worthless mortal soul leaves this body. You belong to me." He snatched the chain around her neck, lifting the Celestial bronze amulet free of her shirt, where it normally lay hidden. "Maybe you need a reminder."

He yanked the chain and the magnetic clasp snapped apart, leaving the necklace in his hand. Annabeth flinched as she felt the glamour around her dissipate. With his free hand, Kronos grabbed her face, forcing her to look in the mirror. "Remember what happens when you _displease_ me?"

She fought back tears as she stared at her reflection, her real reflection, trying to focus on her eyes so she didn't have to see the rest. She would not cry, not in front of Kronos. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Because despite what he said, she still fought in all her small ways, all the ways she could.

"Well?" he asked, and she choked out a whisper.

"Yes, Lord Kronos."

"Good girl. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that I still have to punish you for being where you shouldn't have been." Without warning, he backhanded her; she fell backward over the chair even as it overturned, the force of the blow throwing her to the floor a few feet away. She curled instinctively into a ball, a thoughtless effort to protect herself, but it didn't matter. He may have been in a human size, but he was still far stronger than any human, and her cowering attempt to protect herself only made him angry. He grabbed her by the collar of her jacket and flung her across the room, upsetting the bookshelf she slammed into and causing a minor avalanche of books across the floor around her. She slid to the floor with a groan, only to be snatched up again by the Titan, who pinned her against the bookshelf, burning forearm across her neck. She gasped, her hands flying to her throat in a vain attempt to free her airway as he put pressure on her windpipe. Spots danced in her vision even as she knew he wouldn't kill her – would he?

No. No such mercy would be shown today. Instead, she found herself on the floor again a second later, gagging and choking as she fought for air, though it felt like she was breathing thorns. He stood watching her for a moment, then said, "Try to remember who's in charge here, Chase." Casting a glance around the chaotic mess of her quarters, he added, "And clean this up." Then he was gone, in a blink, doubtlessly back to his throne room.

When Annabeth felt like she might be able to stand again, she struggled to her feet. Stumbling to the dresser, she found the discarded necklace with its glamour spell and clasped it around her neck again with shaking fingers, unable to bear the sight in the mirror any longer. The fresh bruises and scrapes vanished under the glamour as well. Of course. The Titan Lord couldn't have his favorite slave _looking_ like the broken monster he'd turned her into. Even if they all knew what was really under Hecate's magic.

* * *

Will's quiver was empty. Which was strange, because it was never empty – a blessing from his father, Apollo.

Of course, Apollo being dead, or weakened and imprisoned at least, was probably a factor in that. It made sense that his magic would be gone. Unfortunately, that was rather inconvenient for Will when there was a Minotaur charging down on him and he had no arrows left and little skill with a knife, much less a sword.

Enter the run-and-hide routine which seemed to be getting more and more popular in this day and age.

Will leaped over a trash can that had somehow gotten overturned and careened around the side of the building, just as the Minotaur crashed into the alley he'd taken. The thing's nose was just too good. He couldn't seem to lose it. Finding himself out on the open highway again, he cursed. There was no way he'd make it across the street and into a safe spot before -

A bellow alerted him to the fact that the Minotaur had caught up again. He ducked and rolled as razor sharp horns swept overhead, coming to his feet and backing up as the monster turned to face him The Minotaur scraped his great hooves against the pavement as he readied himself to charge, and Will knew this was going to be the end of the line.

That was when he took another step back and discovered that there was no ground underneath him anymore. The earth rumbled and split, and just as the Minotaur bore down on him, Will fell headlong into the darkness, leaving the Minotaur to trip and fall over the gap not large enough for him to squeeze through.

Will must have blacked out at some point, because the next thing he knew, he was sore all over and flat on his back in the middle of a raging battle.

Things were fighting all around him in the darkness; as his eyes adjusted, Will could see hellhounds and skeletal warriors in everything from bronze armor to combat fatigues clashing with dracaenae and Cyclopes. He seemed to be in an enormous cave, the ceiling so high above he wasn't sure how he'd survived the fall without becoming a grease splatter on the stone below, or at least breaking every bone in his body. He couldn't see so much as a glimmer of light from the split where the earth had swallowed him up.

Suddenly, teeth flashed as one of the monsters picked up his scent and bore down on him. Will, immobilized, could do nothing but watch as the creature, impossible to make out in the gloom, bunched its muscles and leaped -

– right into a short but strong blade, wicked sharp and black as a nightmare.

The monster snarled and exploded into dust, which promptly fell all over Will. He brushed himself off and looked up at his savior. "Thanks," he said breathlessly. Then the small soldier pulled his skull-shaped visor up so his face was clear, and Will did a double take. "Nico?"

Nico diAngelo scowled down at him. Will had only met the son of Hades a few times, last year after the Battle of Manhattan. He'd never struck Will as a very friendly character, but Will suspected there was more to it. "That's me. And you're Will Solace. How did you get down here?"

"I fell," Will said, pointing up at the ceiling.

"You fell."

"There was a Minotaur chasing me. I was a little distracted."

"I see." Nico yelped and slashed blindly as a dracaena lunged at him. A few strokes later, she had fallen, but she'd left a long scratch down Nico's arm. Will struggled to his feet, ignoring his aching body's complaints.

"We're not safe here," he started.

"Gee, you don't say," Nico snapped.

Will gave him a withering look. "Is there anywhere we can go, get away from all this?"

Nico glanced up at the ceiling, as if calculating. "We could go to my father's palace," he said slowly. "But I'm not sure you want to do that."

"Your father," Will said, blinking as he tried to come to terms with that. "You mean -"

"Yes," Nico agreed sourly. "You somehow managed to fall straight into the Underworld. Welcome to Hades."

* * *

A slice of light fell across the cell, blinking with a shadow as someone entered the hallway and then going out as the outer door closed. It was replaced by the reddish glow of a torch. "Are you awake?" The occupant of the cell didn't reply. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I... I was delayed."

"It's hard to tell time when you can never see the sun." The words were impassionate, rough, mumbled around a split lip.

The boy flinched, too used to blows from his new masters. "Of course. Sorry."

"Don't apologize to me." She shifted, stretching out a sore muscle – one of many. "I'm just the entertainment."

He didn't respond to that. After an awkward moment, he slid a tray under the door into her reach. She resisted the urge to snatch at the food, scanty as it was, and made a point of picking up the bread and inspecting it carefully before knocking her knuckles against the small loaf, producing a hollow sound. "They're feeding me rocks again, I see." He didn't react. "Did our gracious hosts deign to give me butter with this?"

"We're all out of butter upstairs," he replied. _Another of our spies gone? There are too few already._ "But maybe next time they'll give you a hacksaw so you can cut it up, at least."

She looked at him, surprise flashing over her face for a split second before the mask fell again. "That would be nice." She thought for a moment, considering, then knocked the hunk of bread hard against the wall so it cracked open, splitting. She tore a bite out of the interior, which, while tough and chewy, was at least not the consistency of marble like the crust. "Unfortunately, not everything splits open as easily as bread. I can make do. No need for them to inconvenience themselves on my behalf." She peeled away a fragment of crust and tossed it aside carelessly.

He blinked, but otherwise didn't react. Good for him. "So you know... they've got a fight scheduled for you in an hour."

"Oh, goodie," she said dryly. "I'd better eat fast, then. You know what they say – the show must go on." _Even if the show might kill me._

He was silent again. She sighed to herself, wrapping her braid around her wrist once before letting it fall back behind her. _What are you thinking?_ she asked herself silently. _They would have come to get you._

But she knew they couldn't risk that. She was managing. She was surviving. She couldn't risk the Underground being exposed because they came to rescue her. There was too much at stake. One life wasn't worth it, despite what they seemed to think. She had disapproved of the coded messages being passed between them in the first place, but there was little she could do about that.

"Go on, get out of here," she said quietly. "I'm sure you have other duties to get to."

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, "maybe." At the door, he paused. "Good luck, praetor."

She shook her head at the whisper. "I'm no praetor anymore."

He hesitated. "You'll always be praetor to me." Then the door closed, leaving Reyna in darkness to wait for the Titans to come fetch her whenever the fancy struck them so she could fight in their arena. A gladiator less skilled would have been slain weeks ago. Reyna had survived, barely, at the cost of her freedom, her leadership, and the right to have anyone to talk to. Solitary confinement. It was beginning to drive her mad – at least, she thought it was, but it was hard to tell when there was no one to compare sanity levels with.

Reyna sighed and looked at the marks on her forearm. They, along with the Imperial gold breastplate and greaves that had been returned to her when her status as gladiator had been made official, were all that was left of the legion now. She tugged at her purple T-shirt with its faded gold insignia idly (though she could see neither one in the darkness), at once restless and absolutely lacking in energy. It was a feeling that often plagued her these days.

One hour. One hour before she could see the sun again. Just in time to fight for her life, again.

She rubbed her forehead and finished her meager meal.

* * *

 **Well, she's alive, at least... hehe...**

 **Fair warning: while I have only the barest bones of a plot sketched out, I do know that at some point in the (probably near) future there will be some Jeyna cropping up. I don't really ship Jeyna, but it does make sense for this story, since Jason hasn't even met Piper yet. It won't be anything hot-and-heavy, and it won't be permanent. Just fair warning. Stick with me XD**

 **Don't kill the author. Reviews, please! Thank you for reading, and I'll see y'all next time!**


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